d'Ys
by Cirro
Summary: It was difficult to distinguish between realities, especially when you can't tell which is real, and which you want more.


The city where he lived was large and wealthy, but submerged in an overwhelming depravity which he tried to ignore. The city seemed brilliant at first glance, but the stone walls were dripping with the stench of sickness.

He'd complained once to _maman_ in her perfumed bedroom (though the soft scent of it was never enough to completely mask the cloying sickness of the city), and she had laughed sadly, wrapping him up in her silk robes before asking, " _mellorine_ , why don't you go play near the river?"

He had perked up at her suggestion, but paused for a moment, and asked: "Why don't you come with me, _maman_? Or maybe you can teach me how to make bread?"

"Well, love, I need to go up to _le château_ to make sure we have everything we need when you get home."

Sanji had nodded like he understood, but he hadn't really.

"We only need each other, though, don't we? I'd rather stay at home with you."

She had brushed her fingers through his hair, and left a kiss smeared with lipstick on his forehead. "Thank you," she said, though Sanji didn't understand why, "but I think you'll be much happier exploring outside instead of being cooped up here by yourself. I'd like to hear about your adventures, too!" And she had offered him a brilliant smile.

So Sanji made a point of avoiding the inner city when he could, preferring to explore the outskirts of town so he could bring back gifts for _maman_. When he had to visit the inner city, he brought wildflowers from the forest and gave them out to anyone with too dead eyes. Too often he found that they were women. They called him _gamin_ , and thanked him for his gifts, but he usually found the flowers later strewn across the cobbled streets, wilted and dripping like the walls of the city. _Maman's_ flowers would be kept for a few days in a vase near the window, but they would eventually be thrown out, too.

(It was not until years later that he realized with a startling horror that his mother's eyes had become as dead as the ones on the streets.)

Once, she had noticed him staring at the empty vase, and tugged him onto her lap. He had leaned back into her embrace, and held her hand to trace the blue veins under her pale skin. She had turned her hand over to interlace their fingers, and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand.

"Sorry, _mellorine_ , I had to throw them out before they attracted _les fées_."

" _Les fées_?"

"They're small devils that try to steal children in the night, but if you pray and keep your room clean, they won't be likely to come by, so be careful, yes?"

Sanji had stared at her in horror, but she only gave him a grin.

"Uh, _maman_ , may I sleep with you tonight?" he paused. "To protect you from _les fées_."

"Of course. Thank you, _mellorine_ ," she said indulgently. And so he curled up against her chest while she draped the blanket over them, wriggling until he had a pocket of air. She laid a hand across his back, rubbing soothing circles into his skin. She poked his brow gently when she noticed his pinched expression, and started the lilting melody of a lullaby to comfort him before humming in thought.

"Have you heard of the All Blue?" she asked.

Sanji had ended up nodding off to the sound of her soft voice and the story of an ocean that wasn't grey and dead and filled with the city's waste.

(Sanji hadn't known it then, but it was the first time he fell in love, and the last clear memory he would remember of his mother.)

In the days following his mother's story about _les fées_ and the All Blue, he began seeing things through his left eye.

He hadn't noticed they weren't real at first.

The first time he realized that something was wrong was when he was crossing one of the bridges on his way home. A translucent woman dressed in a thin white dress came up to him with a fixed smile on her face, and asked, "care for a dance, dear?"

Sanji eyed her carefully; the weather had been cooling lately, and it wouldn't be long until snow fell, but she didn't seem cold at all. She was thin, but tall, swaying gently in place while waiting for his answer. She stared at him unblinkingly, her eyes a brilliant blue against her translucent skin.

"I don't know how to dance," he admitted. She stilled at once, her smile almost cracking. He had a terrifying thought that he'd offended her, and hurriedly added, "but I'd like to, if you'd show me how, miss."

She tilted her head in consideration, and finally nodded once before taking his hand and leading him in a light dance. She was cool to the touch, and didn't say anything else, but her smile seemed a bit more real the more he learned to dance. She spun around him once, twice, and then finally stepped away to curtsy. Sanji bowed stiffly in return. It seemed like the proper thing to do.

"Come visit me again," she said, and between one heartbeat and the next, she vanished. Sanji's breath stuttered in his throat.

In the days following his encounter with the woman in white, he was absolutely convinced that she was one of the fairies who would come take him away. His mother had laughed, and said, "maybe I shouldn't have told you those stories."

"But, _maman_ , what if she comes to take me away from you?"

"Then I would just have to steal you back, right?" she said, and she looked so certain that his worries immediately dissipated.

"That's right," he said, and almost as an afterthought, he added, "you're the one I love the most."

"I love you, too, Sanji," she said, and squeezed him in a hug that had him laughing out loud.

Seeing things became a daily routine soon after.

He'd sometimes come across three old women dressed in green at the city's edge, their webbed feet slapping across the smoothed stones near the river. He couldn't understand their language, but they seemed friendly enough; they taught him how to wash linens, and gave him gifts in return for his help.

(Sanji started seeing the women in green more often in the following months, but didn't think anything of it.)

Women with serpentine tails slept on the banks of rivers, their fins flaring if he got too close to their coiled forms. They were dark-skinned, with talons and slitted eyes. With the coming of winter, the river easily froze over, and they eventually disappeared from the surface. During these shorter days, Sanji would lean down against the ice and tap it gently, hoping to see them up close. He could never stay too long to wait, impatience taking over his desire to see the black scales up close. But Sanji was stubborn and would come back the next day, and the next, hoping that if he waited just a little longer, his persistence would pay off.

Every day he visited the frozen river, there would always be a horse standing completely still under the branches of the dead trees as if in wait. It had a black coat, such that Sanji had a hard time distinguishing it from the shadows it inhabited. He thought it was the king's horse at first, but its mane looked too ragged. Sanji never approached it; he had never liked horses, no matter how beautiful they were.

The eventual arrival of spring had Sanji exploring deeper into the forest where he found a lady in a lake who would give him dark, heavy pebbles. The stones were smooth and glossy as obsidian, and he kept them in a pouch as a collection.

When summer returned, he was given permission to stay out late at night while _maman_ finished her job at the castle. Sanji had the thought to lie back on the grass to count the stars, hoping to see one shoot across the sky, except he found that they were _alive_ , coalescing into spiraling whales before bursting into pinpricks of light. Sometimes a man made of starlight would walk across the horizon, holding a cup of brilliant water before pouring it onto the clouds. He never knew rain was made that way, and dutifully reported his findings to his mother the next day.

"You should write down your findings in this notebook," she suggested, holding out one of her old recipe books. "There are still some blank pages in the back, and I'd love to read about your adventures."

Sanji was initially reluctant, self-conscious about his shaky handwriting, but _maman_ had insisted, and if it was for her, Sanji was willing to endure the embarrassment.

So the next time he went down to the sea to collect sea shells, he brought _maman's_ notebook, and carefully wrote down anything that could only be seen with his left eye; like the roots under the sand, gnarled and twisted like rope. Kicking at the sturdy wood sent out globes of light the size of his fist. He cupped them in his hands, and found them to be curiously warm. They shivered before unfurling effervescent wings and shimmering away.

Sanji found that if he went out to the beach in the early morning when it was smothered in mist, transparent, bubble-like creatures would come frothing up from the waves, floating past him gently on gossamer tendrils of light. Sanji thought they probably came from the All Blue, and liked to chase them to see if he could jump high enough to touch them. But he never forgot to take the time to sit down and carefully sketch out what he saw, so he could share them later with _maman_.

(She was busier nowadays, and often came back exhausted, so Sanji had decided to be as detailed as possible so she could look at his stories later when she was well-rested.)

It was on one of these particularly foggy mornings when he was making his way back to the city that Sanji first discovered the man. He had a peculiar instrument, and was sitting side by side with his own head on the cliff side by the sea, playing beautiful but mournful songs. A particularly strong gust of wind had the man's head rolling back inland, and Sanji ran to catch it before it rolled too far.

"Thank you," the main said, absentmindedly reaching out to retrieve his head.

Curiosity got the better of him, and Sanji blurted out, "Who are you grieving for?" But the man only sighed despondently, turning back to look at the sea. Sanji made a face at him, sticking out his tongue and scrunching up his nose, but said nothing else. _Maman_ had always reminded him not to be rude.

But out of all these curious encounters, his favourite was a girl named Jeanne. She was wrapped in silver armor and accompanied by a person doused in light. She accompanied him to and from home, and prayed with him every evening. Wherever she went, white feathers could be found. She was young but carried a sword with a straight back, her shoulders set in a grim fashion. Sanji had asked her once if she was the knight or the princess, and she had laughed and patted him on the head, and he figured it wasn't important. She was his favourite out of all the fantasies that came by, and it might have been how she seemed so _alive_.

(In comparison, the city became steeped in fetid rot that festered in people's hearts. _Maman_ barely smiled anymore. The inner city became colder and darker with every passing day despite the sunlight, the castle at the top almost constantly steeped in shadow.)

He told Jeanne about the All Blue, his _maman_ and her notebook, his collection of black stones from the lady of the lake, his dreams, anything and everything that came to mind, and she had listened to all of his stories with a warm smile on her face.

"I hope you'll have many more happy stories in your life, little one," she said, twirling the flower crown he had made for her around her finger before setting it on his head.

"Of course! I need them so I can make _maman_ happy, after all." She seemed amused at his declaration, but Sanji thought it was a rather obvious conclusion.

"Then perhaps you should make another _couronne de fleurs_ for your _maman_? I'm sure it would make her happy to see that you match," she mused.

"Don't you want one as well, Jeanne?"

"No, thank you. Flowers don't match me very well, I'm afraid." He frowned at that.

"Ah… but you look so lovely with a flower in your hair," muttered Sanji, frowning hard to stave off his blush.

"Is that so?" she said, sounding amused. She tilted her head towards him. "Then will you put one on me, then?"

"Yes, of course!"

He ended up putting more than one flower in her hair, but she didn't seem to mind. When evening came, she took his hand to lead him back home, but Sanji stopped suddenly in his tracks.

"What's wrong, little one?"

"I can hear someone singing," he said. "Offshore, near the cove."

 _Pa vo beuzet Paris, Ec'h adsavo Ker Is_

Jeanne tightened her grip on his hand.

"Ignore it. Let's get you home." She said it so stiffly that he immediately obeyed. He trailed after he silently on the way home, barely glancing at the river as they crossed the bridge. The old women in green were back, washing the last of their linens. There were more than usual. Jeanne started walking faster, and he had to jog to keep up. The deeper into the city they went, the darker it became, and the flowers he had collected started drooping.

"J-Jeanne, wait, the flowers-"

"Sanji, listen," she said abruptly, "no matter what happens, remember your stories, and never lose faith, okay?"

"Wha-"

"Never lose faith, okay?" Her pale blue eyes were barely visible in the dimming light, but she still looked so bright and reassuring that Sanji found himself nodding.

"I promise," he said.

"Good. _Au revoir_ , Sanji. I wish we could have had more time," said Jeanne. "And thank you for the flowers." She gave him a sad smile before fading away.

Sanji's heart was pounding hard as he ran up the steps to their floor. _Maman_ wasn't back yet, and he briefly considered going to look for her, but the darkness that had enveloped the streets made him more nervous than he'd like to admit.

Nothing happened that night; _maman_ came back later than usual, but she still spared him a hug and a kiss before turning in for the night. He stood by her doorway uncertainly before wandering to her bedside.

" _Maman_ , I love you," he said quietly. She blinked her eyes open at his voice and gave him a sleepy smile.

"And I love you, _mellorine_." She lifted her covers, and Sanji climbed in, settling against her side and reaching for her hand.

-:-

A knight in red started appearing in the dripping, rotten streets. The women in green put up their linens to dry.

Sanji felt his gut churn in fear.

And then the island started to sink.

-:-

The moment Sanji knew his mother wasn't coming back, he covered his left eye and hid his (her) notebook at the bottom of his bag. Taking deep breaths and trying not to feel sick from the rocking waves, he gripped at the edge of the boat, trying to ground himself in the middle of the sea.

He thought of the All Blue, his mother's voice, and his promise to never lose faith; all tangible things that were real and not created through the view in his left eye.

Overhead, the stars stayed motionless.

* * *

A/N: Written for the "32 Days of Sanji" event on Tumblr. Prompt: 7/15 - 7/22 - **Mythology** /Secrets

I know Joan of Arc isn't a mythological character, but I really couldn't resist putting her in the story. Other myths mentioned/referenced include (in no particular order) les Lavandières, Orpheus, Ganymede, a kelpie, the Lady of the Lake, les Dames Blanches, Yggdrasil, Melusine, mermaids, the archangel Michael, and of course, the legend of la Ville d'Ys.

Inspired by RedKetchup's "These Forgotten Times" and R.C. McLachlan's "Oneiroi"


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